KICK HER HARDER

She's down.
Kick her harder.
She isn't dead yet.
She isn't dead enough.
Kick her until she dies five or six
more times. 
Extra death.
Mas muerte.
Oh girl.
Karma has decided
to show you its teeth.
You shouldn't have stolen
that piece of gum
when you were five.
You didn't clap hard enough
at that Carrot Top concert.
You hurt Toby Keith's country fried feelings.
You faked it for the wrong Chad.
You unsubscribed.
You unfollowed.
You ghosted.
You fell off the horse
then hopped on a camel.
You didn't try hard enough
in the creative writing workshop.
You did not revise.
You submitted to a hipper than thou editor
drunk on cough syrup.
You ain't Lester Bangs, baby doll.
You did not issue a trigger warning.
You did not play patty cake patty cake
baker's man.
You are not the Manson chick
living off an advance from 
Random Penguin
because you learned deep things
in prison and the world
needs to know every
fucking ass quivering detail.
You are sentenced to anonymity.
You will ride Greyhound from Detroit to L.A.
and no one will buy you a Happy Meal.
It's fuck you fuck you
fuck you harder
and the evil clown
is out of lube.